


Wardrobe Malfunction

by deleiterious



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Attraction, Cunnilingus, F/M, Fluff, Gen, Mirror Sex, Sexual Tension, Smut, Wall Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-01
Updated: 2020-12-01
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:00:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27811141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deleiterious/pseuds/deleiterious
Summary: Bernadetta is used to hiding out in the background on the set of super-famous Dorothea's music videos.That is, until a dancer draws her front and center.xDancer Raphadetta AU.
Relationships: Caspar von Bergliez/Hilda Valentine Goneril, Mercedes von Martritz & Dedue Molinaro, Raphael Kirsten/Bernadetta von Varley
Comments: 11
Kudos: 31





	Wardrobe Malfunction

"Bernadetta?"

Bernadetta glances over her shoulder and spies her assistant hovering by the corner of the set. "One moment, please," she replies over the din of videographers setting up their equipment around them. She turns back to Dorothea to put the finishing touches on the silk ribbons that criss-cross her back. "How's that, Dorothea?"

Dorothea spins in the outfit, marveling at the drape of the skirt in the nearby mirror, set up for quick make-up checks between music video takes. Her brilliant red lips lift into a smile at the flawless design of the ribbons on her back. "That's perfect, Bernie. Thank you, darling." Dorothea breaks into a musical laugh. "Hopefully no more wardrobe malfunctions today."

"Hopefully," Bernadetta responds, although she's used to all manner of them by now.

Last year, someone stepped on Dorothea's music video ball gown and ripped a tear straight up to the waistline. It took Bernadetta and her entire wardrobe team four hours to patch it up before recording could resume. Despite it all, Dorothea ended up winning a much-coveted music video award for that one.

When Bernadetta breaks off from the scene of the set, the clamor of her anxious mind quiets into something manageable. At this point in her career, Bernadetta is a pro at faking her composure on set, but inside she is still a bundle of nervous energy. Anything that can go wrong when wardrobe falls under her jurisdiction and therefore it always feels like her head is on the chopping block. She knows Dorothea is nothing like that, nothing like the other cut-throat stars that wouldn't hesitate to fire her over something as simple as a loose thread, but she still likes to be as careful as she can.

"Is everything alright?" Bernadetta asks, willing herself not to jump to wild conclusions at the sudden appearance of someone on her staff.

Her assistant clears her throat. "Sorry to bother you, boss. It's nothing major. We just wanted to get your okay on the fit for one of the back-up dancers. He's...well, he's a bit bigger than we are used to..."

Bernadetta inhales deeply through her nose and exhales out of her mouth before she responds. Her therapist would be proud. "Okay, no problem. If anything needs mending, I'm sure we can take care of it." Her therapist would be _so_ proud. Bernadetta makes a beeline for the main wardrobe trailer, where she usually spends most of her time. "Are the other dancers cleared for the shoot?"

Her assistant nods briskly, trailing not too far behind her. "Yes, they've been cleared."

Bernadetta takes a deep breath before swinging the door of her trailer open. One of the dancers, an enormous fellow who looks like he could bench press a horse, stands patiently in front of the familiar three-way mirror.

"That's him right there," her assistant whispers to her. Then, louder, "Hey, Raphael, my manager is here to do a quick assessment. If she gives you the okay, you should be cleared for the shoot."

The man known as Raphael glances over at the sound of his name, his face lighting up into a wide smile. "Oh, hey, thanks! Sorry about the trouble."

"No trouble at all, that's what we're here for!" her assistant pipes in, the full-force of her professional voice turned on. Her assistant steps aside, allowing Bernadetta room to examine the cut of the outfit on Raphael.

Bernadetta is quiet with concentration when she's in damage-control mode. Her eyes go straight to the seams and hems. The hem of the sleeveless shirt is a tad higher than it should be, giving her the barest hint of his abs beneath. Her fingers pluck at the edge of the shirt and lift. Bernadetta finds her eyes momentarily distracted by the frankly flawless set of abs beneath and coughs. "We can let it out a little here," she says, more to herself than anyone in the room. "It's not much but it'll do."

"Okay," says Raphael amicably, likely not understanding a word she is saying.

Her assistant, behind her, nods and jots down some notes.

Bernadetta paces around Raphael. The shirt, while snug across his chest, is not so tight that it would make him overshadow the other dancers.

_The pants though..._ Bernadetta releases a sigh, chewing on her bottom lip. The seat of his pants hugs his ass far more tightly than should be comfortable. She bends down, running a finger over the seam near his hip. He jumps a little beneath her touch, but she ignores it. She knows this fabric well; it's popular among dancers for its flexibility and stylish cut. It _should_ stretch enough when he dances.

Bernadetta straightens up, and realizes belatedly her eyes don't even make it to his armpit height. _I can see what they meant by big, and he's so tall too…_

She quickly turns around. Avoiding eye contact with complete strangers is a difficult habit for her to break. "I'm clearing him, but we do need to keep an eye on the pant seams near the waistband."

"Got it," her assistant responds, scrawling down the note. "Okay, boss, I got it from here. I'll have the tailors alter the hem right away. Shouldn't take more than a few minutes."

"Thank you," says Bernadetta, grateful to be able to escape. She gets so awkward around strangers, and Raphael is no exception to the rule. She turns around, pointedly avoids staring directly into his golden eyes, and inclines her head. "If you'll please excuse me."

Bernadetta disappears from the trailer, leaving nothing behind but a faint whiff of her perfume.

"She's kinda intense, huh?" Raphael quips, scratching the back of his head.

The assistant laughs. "She's really sweet actually, but she's also super shy with strangers. Best in the business though, so you're in good hands when it comes to Bernadetta. C’mon, let's get you to the tailors and we'll have you on set in no time."

* * *

"He's sweating an awful lot, isn't he?" says Hilda with the inflection of a person who is vehemently opposed to the biological function of perspiration.

Bernadetta jerks her eyes away from Dorothea's finicky costume. "Hm, what?"

Hilda gestures to one of the shorter back-up dancers currently circling Dorothea. Indeed, the one sporting a stylish undercut is sweating heavily, leaving a large stain on the back of his shirt.

Bernadetta tries not to freak out about it. She's seen it before, and it's not quite so bad that it warrants a shirt swap. "I think that's normal for the dancers. It's a lot of exercise, isn't it?"

"Well," says Hilda with a touch of petulance, "he is also sweating all his make-up off. I'm going to need to pull him out to reapply."

If Bernadetta is the go-to for wardrobe, Hilda is the go-to for make-up. She makes everyone in front of the camera look positively glamorous.

Hilda straightens out of her chair. "Yeah, he needs fresh make-up asap. I'm going to talk to the director."

Bernadetta barely has the chance to respond before Hilda is gone. Suddenly, Bernadetta is reminded of the _problem seams_. Her eyes dart to Raphael, currently engaged in a series of sultry motions. Bernadetta forgets herself for a moment and just stares, watching the actual dance for once. As the music blasts out of speakers off to the side, the dancers move as a coordinated unit. The aggregate effect is nothing short of impressive. Raphael is tall, taller than the rest of the dancers. His blond hair, styled with Hilda's signature flair, glimmers like gold beneath the bright lights. Not that she remembers much, but she can tell Raphael gives off an entirely different energy when he dances. He looks fiercely confident, eyes dark and flinty focused on the camera. She shakes her head and tries to focus on her actual work.

_Goddess above, how have I never noticed his thighs before?_ She swallows a lump in her throat, blinking like she cannot believe her own eyes. Before she can get further along in her appraisal, Raphael's hand flies to his crotch and his pelvis thrusts forward. It's a move she has seen in Dorothea's other music videos. But this experience is an entirely different one for Bernadetta.

His ghost of a smirk sends a shocking jolt of desire straight into her panties.

Bernadetta clenches her legs together, mortified by her body's sudden reaction to someone while at work. He's not even looking at her. She feels utterly depraved. Bernadetta sinks into her chair, wishing she could melt into it or disappear. She can't keep watching him and not feel things. She lightly slaps her cheeks. _Focus on the seams only, Bernie! Just the seams! If they split, you'll be fired before you can say 'mistake.'_

The dancers begin a lunging pose and that's when Bernadetta feels a terrible chill of premonition go down her spine. She can almost sense the rip before it happens. She shoots out of her seat, mouth open to ask the director to cut. Before anything makes it out of her mouth, the director yells, "Cut! Break time!"

She jerks her head to the director, wondering if they read her mind. Instead, she sees Hilda thanking them and hurrying over to the overly sweaty dancer with a make-up kit in hand. Bernadetta releases a sigh of relief for Hilda's timely intervention. She glances around for her assistant or any other people from the wardrobe department, only to realize they all have, in fact, left for said break time.

_Ahhhhhhhhhhhhh! What do I do? I can't go over there and talk to him myself!_ Bernadetta wrings her hands, looking around for anyone who might be able to step in on her behalf. _I'm going to be so fired if I don't fix that tear in his pants before the break is over._

Bernadetta stares hard at Hilda, willing the perceptive woman to read her mind and help in some way. Hilda dutifully wipes away a cakey mess from the blue-haired dancer's face, while he gazes up at her doe-eyed. Hilda, whether she notices this or not, doesn't stray from her work. She expertly cleans up his face and begins the work of reapplying foundation. Eventually, Hilda does look up from her ministrations, but she only cocks her head at Bernadetta in confusion and mouths, "What's wrong?"

"You look pale, Bernadetta. Is everything alright?" asks a gentle voice. Bernadetta swings around to see Mercedes, the head of their on-site medical team, next to her.

"Um..."

Mercedes' lips lift into an understanding smile. "You've been working very hard today. Have you taken a break?"

"I, um," Bernadetta's eyes slide over to Raphael who is standing across the room, "not yet, but I...I will. I just...um, have someone I need to...ah..."

Mercedes follows her gaze over to Raphael, then her smile goes even wider. "Oh, you like him, do you?" she murmurs appreciatively. "He is a very gifted dancer."

Bernadetta reflexively curls over as if to hide herself. "Shh! Mercedes! Please, that's not-- he's--I mean, I'm just looking at his pants--"

Mercedes' eyes twinkle with delight and Bernadetta wishes the floor would open up and swallow her whole.

"For work! I was looking at his pants for work!" wails Bernadetta, wishing Mercedes would stop giving her that look.

Mercedes hides a silvery laugh behind her hand. "Oh, I'm sure, Bernadetta. We all do that 'for work,' from time to time, don't we?" Mercedes winks at her knowingly. "Well, just make sure you stay hydrated and use the bathroom afterward, alright?"

Bernadetta watches speechlessly as Mercedes departs back toward the medical tent, casually waving at Dedue the security guard on her way out. Surprisingly, he waves back. Even smiles, which is rare and impossible. Dedue never smiles at _her_.

Bernadetta sways and leans against her chair. _Okay...okay, Bernie. Enough dawdling. You need to fix this before they resume the shoot_. She takes a deep breath and strides over to Raphael. His eyebrows lift in surprise at seeing her and his lips leave his water bottle with a soft pop.

"Hi, Bernadetta...was it?" he greets her, smiling like a simple boy next door and not like the sex god she'd seen dancing just moments ago.

Her mouth goes completely dry. "Y-yes, that's me."

"Is...everything okay?" he says, after a long beat of silence.

Bernadetta bites her lip and tries not to be too weird about looking at his thighs. There's a small tear at the seams, barely noticeable to others, but to her, it screams for attention. "Your thighs--I mean, your pants!" she squeaks, feeling her face burn at the slip. "There's a tear. I...I need to mend it before the break is over."

"I...what?" He stares down at his leg.

She scoots a little closer, stiffly. "It's right there. It's small but it'll get bigger if we don't fix it right away."

Raphael squints down at the fabric. Eventually, he straightens. "Wow, I didn't even notice that. Sorry," he replies gingerly.

"N-no, it's totally my fault," Bernadetta replies. "I should have had the tailors redo it instead of clearing you without it. It won't take long to fix. Do you mind following me, um, to the trailer?"

"Sure." He sets down his water bottle, leaving it beside his sports bag. He gives her a quick smile as he begins to follow her. "And thanks."

* * *

Bernadetta bends over the pair of pants, needle moving deftly through the fabric to seal closed the tear. She makes the mistake of lifting her head only to be reminded that Raphael is, in fact, not wearing pants at the current moment. He lounges on a nearby chair in boxer briefs that leave nothing to the imagination, patiently waiting for her to finish. She jerks her head down immediately, fingers shaking ever so slightly.

_Get a grip, Bernie! It's not like you've never seen someone half-dressed before. You're a professional! A professional!_

Bernadetta mends the garment in record time. Goddess forbid she have to spend more time alone in a trailer with him looking like that. When she's done, she hoists it up to check her work. It's been a long time since she had to do tailoring work herself, but it is something she misses. She's good at sewing, or so people tell her. She tests its stretch and the thread holds together splendidly.

_Perfect._

She sets aside her tools and sits up, lifting her arms to stretch her neck and shoulders. She catches Raphael watching her out of the corner of her eye. She follows his gaze to her waist and freezes, wondering whether her eyes are playing tricks on her.

Bernadetta knows she's nothing special to look at, not that it bothers her much. Bernadetta dresses very plainly and her entire aesthetic is about not drawing attention to herself. Feeling her face warm beneath his gaze, she gingerly lowers her arms.

"Um, I'm finished with the repairs." She keeps her gaze fixed to the floor as she hands it to him. "Thank you for waiting. I...it shouldn't give you any more problems while you're dancing."

"Thanks a ton, Bernadetta," he replies, standing up to put them on. When he is on his feet, she realizes just how close they are. Bernadetta releases a small squeak of surprise and stumbles back, shocked to be so close to him. _Goddess above, his legs are so muscular...not to mention those biceps…_

Raphael clears his throat, watching her intently.

_Did he catch me looking? Bernie, you scandalous degenerate! Get out of here!_ Bernadetta feels her face burst into flame. She quickly turns, making a beeline for the exit.

"Hey! Wait!" Raphael calls out behind her. She hears the sound of him swiftly putting on his pants and shoes. He catches up to her before she reaches the door and looks, for once, a little less sure of himself than usual.

Bernadetta's voice is a thin, embarrassing rasp. "Um, y-yes?"

Raphael takes a deep breath. "Are you...uh, do you have a problem with me?"

"A p-problem?" she repeats, stunned by the question.

He rubs the back of his neck, lips slanted in a frown. "Yeah...I've been getting weird vibes from you all day. Did I do something wrong?"

Bernadetta stares at him speechlessly, finally meeting his eyes. She isn't used to dealing with someone so straightforward. She knows she's not easy to be around. At work, she puts up a good front, but when it comes to directly interacting with new people, she's nothing short of a pathetic wreck.

"N-no, I don't...have a problem with you. I'm s-so sorry that I..." Bernadetta feels the panic begin to rise up in her chest, cutting off the remainder of her sentence. Her eyes feel wet with the warning of tears.

"Hey," Raphael says softly, his voice oddly soothing, "I'm not mad or anything." His voice is steeped in sincere concern.

Bernadetta tries to breathe through the tight feeling in her chest. "I'm just so b-bad with people. I'm so sorry, Raphael. I didn't mean to..."

"Bernadetta, really it's okay. I just wanted to clear the air." He gives her a big, fortifying grin. "We're all good."

"We...are?" she warbles, wringing her hands.

"Yeah, of course!" He grins, so candid and warm that she knows without question he has already let it go.

They stare at each other for a beat, and then Bernadetta clears her throat. "Um...so, we should probably get back..."

"Right," he says, although he doesn't move. He tilts his head to the side, studying her with a smile. She shifts nervously beneath his gaze, wondering what he's thinking.

"I'll go fir--" They both move at the same time and she bumps her face into one of his impressively solid pecs. Her hand flies to her face, partially to hide the blush and partially to rub at her slightly irritated nose. "S-sorry..."

"You okay?"

"Yeah...I," Bernadetta gulps, "I'm fine..."

Raphael opens the door for her and she flies past him like a rabbit skirting a predator. She presses her lips together, waiting for him to follow. They walk in silence for a little while. In the distance, they see people milling about the set, readying for the next take.

"By the way, Bernadetta, if I don't get a chance to say it later..." Raphael laughs a little self-consciously, his cheeks going uncharacteristically pink, "I'm flattered. Really."

Bernadetta stares at him, uncomprehending. _Flattered...?_ "W-wait, oh my Go--" She claps her hands over her face in sheer mortification. She prays for lightning to strike her down this very instant. _He_ knows _! He saw me eyeing him like a piece of meat!_

Eventually, she peels back a few fingers, wondering if he'd left her to her misery. Instead, Raphael stands there watching her, seemingly amused. When she finally makes eye contact with him, he pulls something out of his pocket and hands it to her.

"Here. In case..." He very gently pries one of her hands away from her face, and slips a piece of paper into it. "In case you're interested."

Bernadetta stands there like a frozen statue, too flustered to even speak.

"Raphael! There you are, man! C'mon, we need to warm-up!" calls one of the dancers, waving him over.

"Be right there!" Raphael yells back, then gives Bernadetta another quick smile before he takes off.

When Bernadetta finally gets a hold of herself, she finds Raphael's phone number in one of her very clammy hands.

* * *

**_5 months later._ **

"Boss?"

Bernadetta glances up from her latest costume design. She's been working on this sketch for a few weeks now, trying to perfect Dorothea's next live performance ensemble. Her assistant waves at her from the door of the wardrobe trailer.

Bernadetta lifts one dark eyebrow. "Did you change?"

Her assistant nods. "Yeah, actually, it's about that. Dorothea would like us all to get gussied up for a wrap-up shoot. You know, since it's the last one for the year."

Bernadetta's gray eyes go wide. "She wants us in another photo?"

Her assistant nods, looking apologetic.

Bernadetta stifles a sigh and looks down at her current outfit: a simple tee and a pair of high-waisted jeans. Dorothea isn't going to be pleased if she shows up looking like this. Dorothea's publicist loves to spam the social media ecosystem with candid photos and wrap-up shoots, to generate buzz for the star's performances, live or recorded. Bernadetta hates to be photographed, but given the nature of her work, it sometimes ends up being unavoidable.

"I don't even know if we have something here in my size..." Bernadetta mutters, more to herself than to her companion.

"No rush or anything, boss. The photo is in two hours so you have plenty of time, but...I just thought I should warn you."

Bernadetta smiles over her shoulder. "Thank you. I'll make sure I'm ready by then."

Her assistant nods once and then disappears.

As soon as the door shuts, Bernadetta goes over to the racks of clothes lining the side of the trailer. Dorothea's custom outfits are off the table, but there are some clothes made for the extras and for the supporting roles that may fit her. She needs to look presentable, but most importantly, she needs to complement Dorothea's unique sense of style. The group photo is supposed to make the team look cohesive, united. Bernadetta finds there is frustratingly little in her size. She pulls out a sleeveless black turtleneck, humming as she searches for something suitable to pair it with.

_Booty shorts? No way. Long tulle skirt? ...Won't match with Dorothea. The velvet skirt? Not my cup of tea but...but I guess it will have to do._

Bernadetta heaves a beleaguered sigh and goes to change.

* * *

"And that's it! Perfect take." The director claps and the cameras blink off. "Thank you, dancers!"

Raphael relaxes out of the ending pose and shakes himself loose. He high-fives Caspar next to him.

Surprised by Raphael's uncharacteristic use of force, Caspar laughs and shakes out his hand. "You're in a good mood today."

Raphael grins. "My girlfriend works on this set. I was gonna swing by and say hi now that we're done."

"Your girlfriend works here? That's impressive." Caspar wipes the sweat off his brow with a hand towel. "I thought our last music video with Dorothea was gonna be it. All the studios are vying for spots. She's super famous now."

"I think they really liked us last time," replies Raphael. "This one might not be our last either."

"You think so?" says Caspar, eyes flicking across the room. He straightens out and nods his head toward one of the make-up artists. She fires back a megawatt smile, curling a strand of perfectly styled pink hair around her finger. "Because that would be pretty great."

"Just ask her out already, Caspar," chuckles Raphael.

Caspar almost chokes on his water. "Who?"

Raphael shakes his head. "I don't know who you think you're fooling."

A tinge of pink rises to his face and he sneaks another glance across the room. "We're just friends."

"Right."

"We are!" protests Caspar. "I bet she's not even single! I mean, look at her!"

"How do you know unless you ask?" Raphael responds, without missing a beat. Caspar huffs beneath his breath as they enter the changing rooms.

When he finishes changing into his street-wear, Raphael grabs his sports bag and waves back at Caspar on his way out. "See you at practice tomorrow."

Raphael wastes no time jogging over to the wardrobe trailer across the grounds. Given their demanding schedules, he doesn't get to see her often and he's been missing her a lot. When he reaches the trailer, he knocks on the door. "Bernie, you in there? It's me!" He tries not to sound too giddy about seeing her, but fails spectacularly.

He hears the tell-tale sound of her surprise and moments later, the door swings wide open. His face lights into a grin. She leaps into his waiting arms, burrowing her face into his chest.

"You made it!" Her gray eyes glimmer up at him. She pecks him on the chin. "How was it today?"

"Great! We finished early..." Raphael blinks, then steps back, giving her a slow once-over. "You look..."

Bernadetta flushes and tugs at the short hem of her red velvet skirt. "I know..."

"You look amazing," Raphael says.

Bernadetta's eyelids lower bashfully at the flattery. "Thank you, Raph."

"Seriously, you look good enough to eat." Raphael leans in close, voice lowering into a little growl that sends a thrill down Bernadetta's spine.

* * *

The table beneath Bernadetta's small frame rocks against the wall. Neither of them even register the sound of her sketchbook crashing to the floor. Raphael feels the pressure on his scalp intensify as she clutches helplessly at his short blonde curls, gasping his name.

Raphael gives her another long, languid lick, savoring the sweet taste of her. When he's nestled between her trembling thighs, he likes to move slow, drawing out every cry she tries to stifle. Raphael loves to leave her loud and wanting. He flicks his tongue along her clit and her kitten heels immediately dig into his back. Her voice, thin and reedy with desire, begs for more.

He is more than happy to oblige.

Raphael effortlessly angles her higher up with his forearms, hands squeezing greedily at her bare ass. His tongue delves deeper into her warmth while one errant hand begins to play with her breasts. Her tiny hands yank and pull at his hair impatiently, the little prickles of pain a delight. Raphael rolls one of her nipples gently between his fingers and she cries out above him. He _loves_ that sound. He momentarily withdraws his tongue, opting to kiss the inside of her thighs.

"Fuck, Raphael, _please_ ," she whimpers. "D-don't tease me."

His eyes fly up to meet hers. He holds her molten gaze as he slips a finger into her dripping wet pussy. Raphael slowly curls it into the spot she likes. With one hand inside her, and the other on her breast, it doesn't take him long to bring her close. Her pupils dilate into wide black pools and her mouth drops open into the beginning of a muted cry.

"I want you loud, Bernie," he tells her, his deep voice coaxing.

Bernadetta screws her eyes shut as her entire body quakes with the force of her impending climax. Her restrained whimpers transform into a low, soul-shattering moan. " _Fuuuuuck_!"

Raphael captures her lips with his own as she goes limp and pliant in his arms.

When she catches her breath, she clings to him. That tiny skirt is still hiked up to her waist. "You're...so _bad_ ," she croaks, the words lacking any bite.

Raphael chuckles and nibbles on her ear. "Can't help myself around you."

She makes an adorable sound of embarrassment and begins to tug her skirt back over her thighs, one hand groping blindly for her balled-up panties.

"I never said we were finished," Raphael says, lips curling into a shameless smirk.

"Wha--"

Raphael lifts her bodily off the table and walks them over to the nearby wall. Bernadetta's eyes go wide as her gaze catches on the three-way mirror arranged directly behind them.

" _Raphael_!" Bernadetta's toothless reprimand bounces harmlessly off his skin.

"Don't tell me you never thought about it." His sonorous voice is a torrid half-laugh, half-hum.

"N-no, I--have you?" she blurts, her pulse quickening at the way he starts to suck and kiss her neck. She mindlessly arches her neck at his ministrations, giving him more space to play.

"Since the day we met," he murmurs against her hot skin.

In response, Bernadetta's legs squeeze him tighter around his hips. "That can't," she pants between kisses, "be true."

Raphael leans his forehead down against hers, drinking in the intoxicating scent of her musk and perfume. "I would never lie to you, Bernie."

Her eyelashes flutter shyly as she wraps her arms around his neck. "I know," she whispers. "I thought..."

"You thought you were the only one making eyes that day?"

"Well," she shifts in his arms, her ass inadvertently grinding against his erection, "...yeah."

Raphael groans and presses her into the wall with a little more force than he meant to use. "Have you seen yourself?"

"O-of course I have!" she counters, before Raphael's restless mouth descends onto her naked breast. Raphael wants her to know just how badly he wants her, how badly he has always wanted her. Her voice peters out into a high-pitched whine. She paws at his shirt, searching for bare skin to touch and admire. Raphael pulls it off for her and she murmurs appreciatively at the sight of him. She tips his chin up to meet her mouth, and he feels all of his remaining resolve fly out the window.

He growls into her perfect mouth, one hand reaching down to unzip his pants. Bernadetta feels his hard cock spring free from his briefs. She remembers the mirror and looks at it now, admiring the flagrant display of muscles in his back, ass, and thighs. The dizzying way he has her pinned to the wall. She adores him. Loves the way he makes her feel. Hoping to return the favor, Bernadetta's eyelashes flutter against Raphael's neck as she begins to leave little love bites along his collarbone.

It drives him wild; it always does. Maybe, Raphael thinks, it has something to do with seeing someone so demure doing something so bold to please him. Raphael presses her flush against the wall, taking a little weight off one arm so that he can fumble with the condom in his pocket. Touching anything that isn't her right now feels like such a chore.

"Do you want some help with that?" Bernadetta offers finally, carefully taking condom from him. At this point, he's lost track of time and is grateful for the assistance. She opens the wrapper with ease. He expects that she will hand it back to him, but she doesn't.

Raphael grits his teeth, trying not to thrust into her hands as she rolls it down his length. It's almost alarming how skilled she can be with her fingers. When she's done putting it on him, she trails the tips of her fingers along his shaft and Raphael tries and fails to suppress a groan of pleasure.

Raphael glances side-long at the mirrors, and finds Bernadetta's dazzling reflection coyly watching him through half-lidded eyes. Waiting.

He's been dreaming of this since the day he met her.

* * *

"I'm _so_ sorry, Caspar!" Hilda immediately begins scrambling through her equipment, searching for a hand towel. "That was so clumsy of me!"

"Hey, it's nothing. Don't worry about it!" he reassures her, shaking out the large splash of coffee on his t-shirt.

Hilda finally locates a clean rag and immediately begins dabbing at the stain.

"I...I got it..." Caspar says hastily, hands hovering awkwardly over hers. "T-thanks, Hilda."

"Are you sure?" she asks, biting her plush bottom lip. "Seriously, Caspar, I'm so sorry. I didn't even see you when I turned around and--"

He grins, waving away her concern. "Seriously, don't sweat it. It'll come out in the wash." She releases the rag into his custody and he begins to wipe it across his shirt. It actually smears the liquid further, rather than absorbing it.

"Wait, I have an idea!" Hilda exclaims. "I think I know where we can find you an extra shirt."

"Oh, really?" Caspar replies, sounding somewhat skeptical. "It's no trouble, honestly--"

"Oh, Caspar, won't you let me do this for you? I'd hate to make you go out looking _that_." She looks so genuinely upset by his spoiled appearance that Caspar eventually relents.

"Alright," he sighs, "lead the way then." Not that he has a problem spending more time with Hilda, but...he meant to come over to ask her out, not to to get coffee dumped in his face.

Hilda's pretty face lights into a smile and she grabs him by the hand, leading him back toward the trailers. "Our wardrobe team usually has some spares, maybe something that an extra wore, you know?" she explains, as she guides him by the hand.

"Uhuh," Caspar responds numbly, shamelessly staring at the way her hand wraps around his.

"Here it is!" Hilda says brightly, lifting her hand to the handle.

Caspar's hand shoots out to stay hers."Wait, do you hear that?"

From inside the trailer, they both hear the distinct sounds of something thumping against the wall.

Hilda recognizes the sound first. Her mouth drops open into a surprised 'o' and her pink eyebrows go sailing up her face. She brings one scandalized hand up to her mouth and turns her laughing eyes on him.

The rhythmic thuds start to get faster, and louder. They're quickly following a series of obscene moans.

Caspar's jaw twitches at the realization and he blinks helplessly at Hilda. "Is someone having sex in there?" he hisses, a little too loudly to be properly clandestine.

"Shh!" Hilda whispers back, pressing a finger against his lips. "You'll spoil their fun! C'mon!" She tugs him away from the trailer.

Caspar follows after her, dazed, by the brief contact of her hand on his face. "But I thought--"

"We'll try the lost and found," she replies, laughing.

"Does that happen a lot here?"

Hilda throws a glance over his shoulder at him. "Hm?"

_Wow. She is so damn pretty_ , he thinks.

"Oh, you mean sex in the trailers?" There's a short pause as she laughs. "Oh, yea, more than you'd think. I mean, you should hear Mercedes and Dedue going at it sometimes."

Caspar blanches. "Mercedes? The...the _medic_?"

* * *

"Oh, Bernie, right on time!" Dorothea waves her over excitedly. "Come over here! We're about to take the wrap-up photo!"

Bernadetta wobbles over toward the crowd, her gait slightly more stilted than usual. She inches next to Dedue, hoping his height will partially obscure her from the photo. Thankfully, no one seems to pay much attention to her slightly disheveled appearance. She clears her throat as she faces the camera and smooths down her skirt again, nervously hoping no one is about to ask--

"Bernie, your ponytail is a little crooked, darling," Dorothea informs her helpfully. "Hilda, do you mind helping Bernie with her hair?"

Hilda sidles up to the hapless woman, an incredibly knowing smile plastered to her face.

_There's no way she would know...right? Right?_ Bernadetta swallows nervously.

"Busy day, Bernadetta?" purrs Hilda suggestively.

"Um," Bernadetta hiccups, "y-yes?"

_Oh._

_Oh._

"Everyone, say cheese!" yells Dorothea.

The cameras flash.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Churned this spicy one out over the weekend. Listen, I LOVE me some soft Raphadetta, but spicy can be fun too. 
> 
> This is the product of watching choreographed dance music videos. The talent. The confidence. The sheer sex appeal. Scooped it right up and stuck it right on Raphael. Bernie never stood a chance. This is a little outside of my usual style and tone, so I'd love to know what you thought.
> 
> As always, comments are appreciated and incredibly motivational. <3


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